Firsts
by Erileen
Summary: A look at the moments in Sam Winchester's life that meant something to him, those that were positive and those that were negative and those that were confusingly inbetween.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural in any way, shape, or form**

**Author's Note: A series of 'firsts' in Sam Winchesters life. There is a second part which will be going up in the next day or so. Enjoy!**

**Warnings: A few words here or there, nothing much though**_  
_

_The first time Sam breathes air…_  
…it's 4:27 pm on May 2 and it's really cold out here and not nearly as nice as it was in there. He just wants to go back to wherever he was before.

Suddenly there's something rushing through him and he cries though he hears everyone around him being loud, and they feel light and happy.

The next thing he knows they've got him wrapped up so tightly he can't move his arms or legs, but they're putting him into the arms of someone warm, someone safe…someone who's going to take good care of him.

He smiles as he focuses his gaze on his mother for the first time. Her mouth moves.

He doesn't understand it, but this also the first time that someone tells Sam that they love him.

_The first time Sam walks…_  
…he's one and on the floor of a dirty apartment. Dean's sitting across from him, trying to help him pull himself up. John is engrossed in a book at the desk, not paying attention to his two younger sons.

Dean watches as his younger brother stands up, and then starts to take a wobbly step. "Dad!" he cries.

John turns around and a smile breaks out on his face like the sun appearing from behind gray rain clouds. He gets up and couches down beside Dean. "C'mon, Sammy!"

The kid only manages a few small steps before he falls down on his diapered behind, tears starting to well in his eyes. John smiles and picks him up, sitting him on his lap as he reads.

_The first time Sam goes to school…_  
…he's three, and the bright colors of the classroom and the smiling, cheery teacher do nothing to lighten his soured mood. He looks up at his Dad. "Can't I stay with you and Dean?" he whispers.

John kneels down to eye level with his son. "C'mon Sammy…you're going to like school. Dean goes to school, don't you want to be just like Dean?"

Well of _course _he wants to be just like Dean. Honestly, sometimes his father could say some really dumb things, even though Dean always tells him that their father is a smart man. He sighs. "Okay, Daddy."

"Be good, kiddo."

The teacher guides him over to the play area, encouraging him to play with the other children. A mountain of toys is in front of him, and it's as close to heaven on earth as a three year old can get. Sam's eyes light up; he has a feeling he's going to like school a lot more than he thought.

_The first time Sam chooses Dean over John…_  
…he's four years old, and they've just come back from visiting one of John's friends when the car door shuts on his hand. Instantly tears well in his eyes and he starts to cry, big boohoos with wet tracks of tears falling down his face.

Neither John nor Dean had seen it happen, and they have no idea why Sam is suddenly in tears. John kneels down in front of his son and grasps his shoulders. "Sam? Come on, Sam, what's the problem?"

Suddenly Sam cries, "I want Dean!"

John won't deny it; that one stung. Sam usually chooses him over Dean. He turns to his older son who is standing behind him and mutters, "Well, you heard him."

Dean gets an ice pack for his brother's hand and they sit on the couch, Dean with his arm wrapped around his little brother's shoulders until the majority of the crying has ceased. John comes down from upstairs just as Sam has finally stopped crying for the most part.

"Everything okay here?" he asks, his voice a little gruff.

Dean nods, and doesn't miss the look of jealously in his Dad's eyes.

_The first time Sam sees Dean hurt on a hunt…_  
…he's eight and he's been waiting in the motel room for three hours, twenty nine minutes, and forty-five…forty-six…forty-seven seconds.

He hates it when his father and Dean go to finally 'kill the big bad' and he has to stay in motel rooms. He always tells Dean that no, it's not a big deal and yes, he'll be okay but really all he does is sit there and stare at the clock until he brother and father get home. He hates the aloneness.

The phone rings once. The signal. His breath catches when he finally hears it ring again. "Dad?"

"Sam, listen to me. I need you to go under the sink in the bathroom, get the towels, and lay them out on the bed, and have the first aid kit ready. Can you do that for me, kiddo?"

"What's wrong?"

"Sam, can you do that?" His father's voice is stern and no-nonsense.

"Yessir."

"We'll be there in ten minutes." _Click. _

Sam hangs up the phone with shaking hands but scurries into the bathroom, flinging the cupboard under the sink open and pulling out the few thin towels that were stuffed down there, grabbing the first aid kid on his way out. He lays the towels down on the bed and opens the first aid kit just as the door bursts open. His head whips around and he sees his father holding Dean, and Dean's eyes are closed.

His Dad kicks the door shut and lays Dean down on the towels, moving quickly. "Get me the gauze, Sam!" he snaps as he turns to do something with Dean.

Gauze? What's gauze? Everything Sam ever learned just flew out of his head, and his hands are shaking so badly…

"Samuel Winchester!" his father yells. _"Now! _I'm not screwing around here Sam, move it!"

Sam grabs something he thinks is gauze and gives it to his father. He tries not to look too hard at all the blood…it's everywhere, it's coming from everywhere. Sam feels himself starting to get teary.

John tells him to do something but the words get lost somehow. He's turning and barking an order at Sam again but he misses it a second time. By the third time, however, it's loud and clear. _"The first aid kit, Sam!"_

He passes it to his Dad and stares for a second before he whispers, "Is Dean going to die?"

His father flashes him a look of such cold, angry fury that he takes an involuntary step back. "No one is dying here tonight!" Sam sees the fear in his eyes and it's so clear it's practically radiating off of the man's body.

Sam doesn't move from that spot in the room until John is done patching up Dean to the best of his abilities. He stands up and wipes his hands on one of the towels. "Shower," he murmurs, before shooting Sam a look. "Don't bother your brother, you hear me?"

"Yessir." He doesn't move until he hears the shower running, when he slowly starts to step near the bed. "Dean?"

Dean turns his head a little bit and smiles. "Hey Sammy." Sam stares at him for a moment before he takes a shallow breath and laughs. "Siddow, clown."

Sam doesn't need to be asked twice. He flops down on the bed next to his brother. His side is touching Dean's side, which makes Dean feel like he's on fire but it doesn't matter that much except for the searing pain…he breathes in and out slowly…but he can take it.

Sam looks over at him. "Are you okay?"

Dean smiles. "Of course I'm okay, kiddo. It takes way more than that to ruffle Dean Winchester."

"Good," Sam says, "because if you died I'd be really lonely."

Dean sighs. "I'd miss you if you died too, kiddo."

Later on, when Dean and John think Sam's asleep, they start talking about him. Sam doesn't move from where he's curled up on the bed but catches their every word.

"…totally lost it today, Dean, you wouldn't believe."

Dean's arm was wrapped around Sam's shoulder, and he tightened it a little bit. "Dad, come on, he's eight years old."

"He's a Winchester, that's all that matters."

He feels Dean tense up a little bit. "I'm sure he'll handle things better once he's older. It's the first time he's ever…seen anything that bad."

"The thing is, I need him to be cool with it _every _time. I need both of you –"

"Dad," Dean says in a stern, quieter voice, "Sam's trying to sleep, you're being loud."

Sam's eyes aren't even open but he can picture exactly how their father looks and he knows that his Dad is prickling a little bit at that one before Dean apologizes quickly – "Sorry sir."

_The first time Sam screws up on a hunt…_  
…he's ten and helping his Dad and Dean purify a house of a malevolent spirit. Dad's upstairs, he and Dean are in the basement. Dean gives him a flashlight and tells him to check one side of the dark, mucky basement and he'll check the other, to get the job done faster.

When he hears Dean's voice shouting, "Sammy!" he instantly follows it…into another room. "Dean?" He shoots the beam from his flashlight around, trying to find his brother in the endless darkness. "Dean?"

Suddenly boxes and old odds and ends that collect in a basement start flying at him. He can't see where they're coming from in the pitch blackness, and tries to call out for his brother but ends up getting the wind knocked out of him by a box. The lights flick on and off.

Dean bursts in. "Sam?" Sam looks and sees his brother, and nearly cries in relief…before he sees a wooden box flying at his brother's head. "Dean, look out!" he shouts. Dean reacts quickly (and stupidly) as he deflects the box with his arm. Sam squeezes his eyes shut and doesn't miss the sickening crunch that he knows is Dean's arm.

Sam is shoved into a corner by Dean, who couches in front of him, trying to keep the brunt of the attack away from his brother while he yells in Latin.

It ceases. Dean helps pull a terrified Sam up. "You okay, kiddo?" he asks. There's blood running from a cut under Dean's eye, and his face his already swollen, along with his arm.

Sam nods, but really he feels horrible as he watches the blood run down Dean's face like a red tear. "I heard you calling from in here, I thought you were in trouble."

On the way back to the motel room, John lectures Sam on how spirits can echo the voices of people and how he was fairly sure he mentioned that. He finally just gives Sam a book on it, and is surprised when the kid is able to finish it fairly quickly. When he opens it up and asks Sam questions on it that increase in difficulty, he's surprised when Sam is able to answer all of them with little to no hesitation.

This is also the first time John is impressed with Sam.

_The first time Sam gets stage fright…_  
…he's thirteen and in a middle school play, about some book he's never read. He's the mayor because the mayor has to be able to pronounce big words and he was the only kid who could hack it. He'd stayed up late under the covers with a flashlight studying his lines, and even occasionally slipped them inside of the books about spirits and poltergeists his father threw his way so he could study them, turning the pages every once in a while to keep us the appearance he is reading about three different Latin chants to exorcise a malevolent spirit from a living thing.

The performance is a weekday night and John is out of town hunting a water spirit of some sort; Sam and Dean are going to come out and help him 'finish things up' that weekend.

Dean's sitting in the audience and feels very conspicuous, seeing as he's nestled between soccer moms and dads. He's just noticed that they're selling candy behind the cafeteria counter (not to mention the cute girl who's selling it) when suddenly there's a zitty seventh grader poking his arm, saying something about Sam. Dean can't understand what he's saying because of the kid's lack for proper diction due to his retainer, but follows the kid backstage anyway.

Sam's already dressed in a top hat with some sort of dead animal plastered to his face. He's sitting up against the stage, pale and frightened. Upon seeing his brother he whispers, "I can't do this!"

"What in God's name are you talking about?"

"I can't do this, there are too many people out there."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Come on, Sam, don't tell me you have stage fright."

Sam shakes his head. "I can't!"

Dean crosses his arms. "Sam, you're a Winchester, you can hack anything." He lowers his voice to a decibel that only Sam's hearing range can comprehend. "You've taken on all sorts of supernatural stuff without breaking a sweat; next to that this is nothing." He raises his voice back to a normal level. "Just…imagine everyone in there underwear or something."

Sam looks up at his brother. "You've obviously never done theater before."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Well, the idea of having to do extra work to memorize stuff and then being put in some sort of hideous costume that always seemed to involve tights to recite the stuff that I had to put extra time into to memorize…nah, never really appealed to me." He winks.

Sam smiles and shakes his head, accepting his brother's hand that pulls him up.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"What kind of a part do you have that requires a dead animal plastered to your face?"

Sam grows indignant. "It's a beard."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Right."

Sam's great from the first scene to the last, and receives a huge whoop from the audience when he takes his bow.

Dean liked it and all, but he is more concerned about being able to keep that dead animal that Sam called a beard. It was kind of cool looking in a freaky ass kind of way.

_The first time Sam really gets hurt on a hunt…_  
…he's fourteen – well, almost anyway. He's gotten knocked around while hunting before – bumps, bruises, and occasional broken bones come with the job, but not like this…where he can't even see straight and everything is spinning so much he thinks he's going to be sick so he shuts his eyes.

"Hey," a voice says, but it seems far away, "come on Sammy, stay with me." The thought of opening his eyes makes him feel sick but he knows it makes Dean feel better when his eyes are open, so he opens them. He feels the car go over a bump and groans when his leg and head move and everything spins more than usual. He can smell blood, taste blood, feel it running down his face which makes his stomach twist.

Dean has a hand on his shoulder, which kind of hurts but is nice because he knows his brother isn't a touchy-feely type of person. _He must be worried, _he thinks. "We almost there?" he croaks.

"Yeah, just stay awake Sammy, we're only a few minutes away." Of course, he's been saying that for the last half hour so he doesn't believe him.

He hears his father's voice say, "How're you doing back there, kiddo?" His voice seems far.

Sam tries to open his mouth to say something but everything is slipping away, so he thinks it's a good time for a nap.

_Sorry, Dean…_

_The first time Sam is scared of something that isn't supernatural…_  
…he's fourteen and it's a warm June day and Dean is graduating high school. It's a weekday afternoon but John's home. They both go and sit down in the plastic lawn chairs and wait.

As Sam grows warmer and warmer under the sun's rays, he can't stop thinking, _"He's going away. He can now, he's eighteen. He has other things to do. He's going to leave."_

The sun gets hotter and hotter.

_"He's going to leave and it's just going to be me and Dad, and when I need Dad to cut me some slack or lay off a little bit he's not going to be there to fight it out for me, and when Dad's hunting during the week I'm going to be all alone…"_

Finally he can't take it anymore. He mutters something about finding a bathroom but instead sneaks his way into the graduate's hall. He's tall enough to blend in. He asks a few students if they've seen Dean – three haven't seen him, two don't know who Dean Winchester is, one "no espeak englese"

Finally he finds him, in a sea of black polyester and funny looking hats. "Dean!"

His brother turns. "Hey, how'd you get back here?"

"I need to know something."

Dean adjusts his hat. "What?"

"Are you leaving?"

"Am I _what?"_

"Leaving, are you going to leave?"

"Leave you and Dad?"

Honest to God, he was as slow as a rock sometimes. _"Yes, _Dean!" Sam cries, exasperated.

Dean scratches his forehead. "Where would I go?"

Sam sighs. "Never mind." _He doesn't want to tell me yet. _He starts to storm away when he feels his brother grab him by the shoulder.

"Dude, you think I'd dust you and Dad that fast?"

Sam opens and closes his mouth. "You can. You've never dreamed of anything more than this?"

_Yes. _"Nah, not really. Besides, someone has to be around to save your sorry butt." He whacks his brother on the head. "Honestly, the things you think up sometimes…I wouldn't dust the two of you that fast, and neither would you…right?"

Suddenly a teacher who vaguely resembles a frog is croaking at the graduates to line up. "Better make yourself scarce, kiddo. See you after the ceremony."

Sam hurries back to his seat and sits down just as "Pomp and Circumstance" starts to play.

_The first time Sam can see the top of Dean's head…_  
…he's fourteen and a half and they're outside of a mortician's keeping watch, while John is inside trying to get to see the Neumann corpse.

They're standing against and building and Sam is staring at his brother for a while before Dean snaps, "Take a picture."

"Are you leaning?"

"What?"

"Are you leaning against the building or something?"

"No, why?"

Sam's face breaks out in such a smile. "I'm taller than you."

"What? No way, no you're not." He straightens a little bit, but it doesn't help.

"Dude, I can see the top of your head and everything."

Dean frowns. "You are so not taller than me."

"Dean, yes I am."

"No you're not, I'm always going to be taller."

"Why?"

"Because I'm older, that's why."

"You are such a bitch sometimes."

John finally comes out and before he can even begin to give them the 4-1-1 on what happened inside Sam blurts, "Am I taller than him?"

"What?"

"Am I taller than Dean?"

"Sam, you're just wasting your time, you are _not _taller than me."

John stares for a moment before he says, "Stand back to back."

Wow. Sam has at least a solid inch on him. "Sorry Dean, Sam's got you."

"Ha!"

"What? No way, when we get back to the motel I'm measuring us."

The ruler doesn't lie – Sam has a good inch and a half on his brother, and it's a good feeling.

Dean sulks for the rest of the day and into the next day.

From then on, whenever Dean's being an ass and Sam wants to piss him off, he studies the top of Dean's head and says, "What's that I see? A bald spot, a gray hair?" Dean snarls at his brother, but on more than one occasion after these teasings Sam has caught his brother in the bathroom, inspecting the top of his head.

_The first time Sam realizes there's more…_  
…he's fifteen and in his third new high school this year. And _this _one requires a talk with the guidance counselor when starting. Yippie.

She's looking over the files as he goes in. _Great. _Neither John nor Dean could be there with him, leaving him to battle the nosey woman alone. She looks up from her desk and smiles as she hears the door open. "Samuel Winchester?" she asks.

Sam smiles. "That would be me." He shakes her hand, sits in an uncomfortable chair.

"So," she says, "you've moved around quite a lot?"

Cut right to the chase. "Yeah, we move a bit."

"Army? Navy?" she asks, nose still in the files. She's seen a few army kids since she's been working here.

Sam nods. Sure, why not?

"Well," she says, "even though you've been…_uprooted _quite a bit in your day, one thing is clear – you certainly have remarkable grades, Sam. Have you considered what you're going to do after high school? If you got a bit more involved in extra curricular activities and such, you'd certainly be an excellent candidate for a top university. Surely you've given it some thought, if you're getting grades this high – where do you want to go to school, Sam?"

Thought? Had he _ever _given "after high school" a thought at all? Was he going to be able to get an after high school?

"Uh," he says, "well, not really."

She's fumbling in her desk drawer, and the next thing he knows she's shoving pamphlets in his face. "I usually save these for the seniors," she says, "but…" She spreads them out in front of him, like Tarot cards beckoning him to pick his future.

He takes them and stuffs them in his backpack to please the woman. But that night, as he lays in bed (awake due to Dean monstrous snoring) he pulls them out and reads them.

And for the first time in his life, he realizes that there was something to be other than "Dean".


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural in any way, shape, or form**

**Warnings: Mild language and some (very brief) sexual stuff**_  
_

_The first time Sam asks a girl out…_  
…he's sixteen and she's seventeen. She's standing with her friends outside of the school, leaned up against the wall. Dean's sitting across the street in the Impala, blasting music. Sam can hear that it's a Motorhead song from across the street, for God's sake.

He can't help but watch her a little bit as he walks down the front steps of the school. She has this straight, long brown hair and these freckles on her nose and these green eyes…

Suddenly, he sees those green eyes connecting with his. Fear clutches in his stomach and he turns away, staring at the ground as he crosses the street. He can hear her giggle trill. God, she even has a cute laugh. He can overlook the giggling for her.

He opens the front passenger door and climbs in, instantly turning the volume of the music down to a level that doesn't deafen him.

Dean turns the music down even lower, which causes Sam to do a double take. Before he can speak, Dean breaks the ice. "Who's the girl?"

"What?"

"I saw you checking her out, she was doing the little," Dean raises his voice to a freakishly high level, "'Ohmigawsh guys he's looking at me, like, cool!'" He laughs as Sam punches him in the shoulder.

"She's not like that."

"Ooh, so we know what she's _like _now. Fascinating, a little stalkerish for my liking, but all the same - fascinating."

"I don't…I've just talked with her a few times, okay? Nothing major. She's nice."

Dean nods. "Did she give you directions to the library?"

"No!" Sam cries; defensive. Dean gives him the skeptical look that somehow always manages to make him tell the truth. "Okay, yes. But –"

He can't get another word in edgewise because Dean's chortling so loud. He turns up the volume and shakes his head as he pulls out.

The next day Dean's blasting Metallica. "Come on, Sammy," he says as he watches his brother come down the steps of the high school again. He looks at the girl, she looks at him. Woo, a little brave there, sport – he's waving to her now. She smiles, flashing white teeth.

Dean quickly locks all the doors to the car. Sam tries to open the door, and then pulls on it harder. He gives Dean a look, and Dean pretends not to notice because he has the music so loud. Suddenly, he sees Sam starting to pound on the door, and that's not cool. He rolls down the window. "Easy on my baby!"

"Dean, the door's stuck."

"I locked it, Einstein."

"Why?"

"Go ask her out, Sam."

"Now?"

"As good of a time as ever."

"But –"

"Either you ask her our or you walk home, and it's seven miles and they're calling for rain so I don't think you want to do that." He rolls the window back up and shrugs at Sam.

Sam sighs for a second before he mutters "I hate you", turns around, squares his shoulders and marches over to her. He takes her off to the side…Dean smiles as he sees her nodding, reaching into her backpack…oh God, he was getting her number!

Sam comes back over and Dean rolls down the window. "Today," he says, "you finally became a Winchester."

_The first time Sam gets his heart broken by a girl…_  
…he's sixteen, and she's eighteen. (Well, it's the night of her eighteenth birthday, anyway)

They're sitting on a blanket in a nearly deserted park, eating sandwiches. When Sam picks her up, he's afraid that she's not going to go for sitting in the park eating a sandwich with him for her birthday, but he doesn't have enough money to take her to a restaurant. As they pull up to the park, he apologizes for brown-bagging it on their date and she does the little hair twirl thing and kisses him and he remembers how great and cool she is and he knows it's going to be okay.

Then again, he knows that it can't be okay…because he's leaving tomorrow morning, and he's going to tell her on her birthday that they will never see each other again.

Sam always had a flair for timing.

They lie down on the blanket, her pressing into Sam's side and it feels good. "This was really great," she says, and he knows she isn't lying.

"I'm glad you liked it." He smiles. "Happy birthday."

"You know," she says, "this weekend my friend Claire is having a little get-together – very low key, just friends, and I would _love _it if you could come with me."

_Great. _"Well, you see…"

She groans and sits up. "Here it comes!" she says. "Another vague reason why you can't come with me somewhere."

"Katie…"

"Don't 'Katie' me!" she snaps. "I'm so sick of this!"

"Look, I'm sorry, but…"

She's sits for a minute, brooding before she turns and looks at him. "Sam," she whispers, "I really, really like you but…" Her eyes cast downward and Sam sits up. His stomach is turning and twisting and exploding all over, and in a second he thinks he's going to throw up.

"Kate," he says, touching her arm, "please…"

She still isn't looking at him and he wants to beg her to look at him, to talk to him, to say something.

She kisses him lightly on the forehead before she whispers, "Goodbye, Sam Winchester." She stands up and walks away.

Sam sits there for a second before he does throw up in the grass.

_The first time Sam gets drunk…_  
…he's sixteen and in a new town. John and Dean are…somewhere, he can't remember where, all he can think about is how much he misses Kate.

He's looking at all of the pictures he has from when they were together, the little trinkets that she gave him and suddenly he's dropping the pictures and things and going into the fridge and the next thing he knows he's on the roof.

He sees Dean and John pull in later, and he waves to them. "Hi!" he shouts, and then he starts to laugh.

John stares up, incredulous. Dean's mouth is in such an 'o' shape he looks like he's about to inhale an egg.

"What the hell are you doing up there, Sam?" John cries.

Sam shrugs and then nearly falls over. "Oops!" he yells and laughs again as he almost falls off the roof, grabbing the loose shingles in an attempt to stay seated.

"Sam, don't move!" John yells. He starts to move when Dean grabs him by the shoulder and says something that Sam can't quite decipher but he doesn't need too, he takes another swig and wow, he really likes beer.

The next thing he knows Dean is up on the roof with him. "Sam," he says, "what are you doing?"

"Oh," Sam says, "you know, just hanging around!" He starts to laugh again and then suddenly he's heaving and Dean's holding his head so he can puke over the edge of the roof.

Sam laughs a little bit more, wiping his mouth. "You know," he said, "the last time I threw up like this we were still in Alton."

"What?"

"Yeah, and it was Kate's birthday and we, you know, we were eating and stuff and all of the sudden she was all mad and…" The words were getting stuck in his throat, and they were raw and hard to say. He clutches the beer bottle tighter. "You know, I really loved Kate."

Dean is still trying to put the pieces together, but he's starting to understand why Sam has been so weird since they moved. He wraps his arm around his brother's shoulder. "Yeah, I know you did, Sam. But hey, there are plenty of other fish in the sea, right?"

Sam looks over at his brother and then punches him in the shoulder…or tries to, he misses by a lot because there are two Deans. "That's funny," he says, as he laughs some more, "because you know I'm allergic to fish!"

_The first time Sam walks away…_  
…he's eighteen and his Dad just said that he'd better stay gone if he's going to go. He pauses for a split second before he goes.

He's made it three blocks before he hears Dean yell, "Sam!" He turns around and sees his brother running, only illuminated by the flickering street light.

Dean finally catches up and he's wheezing from running so fast. "Sam, come on, please don't go like this."

Sam shakes his head. "I'm sorry." He doesn't miss the look of betrayal in Dean's eyes.

Dean opens and closes his mouth, and then runs his hand along the back of his neck. He starts to say something but doesn't finish, and Sam can't catch what he was saying because he's speaking so softly.

"I have to go to the bus stop," Sam says. He starts to walk and Dean follows him. They walk together wordlessly and once they get there they wait wordlessly. They stare at the same spot on the ground for thirteen minutes before the bus pulls up. Sam picks up his bag and starts to get on the bus when Dean says, "Wait!" Sam turns around and Dean seems to be searching for words before he takes a deep breath, shoves his hands in his pockets, and says, "See ya later, Sammy."

_The first time Sam sees Jess…_  
…he's twenty and trying to study for a final. He can't study in his room because his roommate is trying to break up with his girlfriend and she's not taking it very well. It's loud and noisy out here but it works, except for the fact he's being smothered by the joy that's surrounding him – happy college kids who are – yippie! – done with their finals and intent on making enough noise to let the entire state of California know it.

He's hit in the head with a Frisbee and has half a mind to break it when he sees the girl who's coming to get it, and she's really nice enough – he's had a class with her. "Hey Sam!" she says with a smile. "Sorry you got hit, my friend isn't the greatest with aim." She takes the Frisbee. "So, what're you up to?"

"Studying, I still have another final left."

"That sucks. Well hey, if you need a bit of a break you can always come over with us – we found a Frisbee and we're just rekindling a few childhood memories, you know?"

_To rekindle any of my childhood memories, you'd have to start laying some salt lines all over campus. _"Yeah, I know."

"Chelsea, let's _go!" _someone yells, and both Sam and Chelsea turn to see a tall blonde girl, arms crossed and tapping her foot. "Waiting here!"

Chelsea takes back the Frisbee and winks before she jogs back to her friends.

Sam can't take his eyes off the blonde girl. He keeps trying to study but gives up as he gaze keeps getting pulled back to her.

Time to call it quits with the schoolwork.

_The first time Sam tells Jess he loves her…_  
…he's twenty-one and lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. There's a water spot up there that kind of looks like Dean's head, but he can't really trust himself right now, considering he hasn't eaten in about a day and a half and he's still a little woozy.

Jess is sitting on the floor, right by his head. She looks at him; serious. "You really should try to eat something, or drink. You're going to get dehydrated and _that's _no walk in the park."

Sam smiles a little bit and starts to move but instantly realizes that was a mistake. He bolts up and heads for the bathroom, but there's nothing more to puke up. He makes his way back to the sofa and flops down. "I hate germs."

She gives him a sympathetic look. "Good thing you didn't go for the pre-med thing, then." He appreciates her humor, but if he laughs he thinks he might throw up again. "There isn't anything that you'd want me to go pick up at the store?"

He thinks about it for a second, and then laughs. "Whenever I got sick when I was a kid, my brother would always give me Gatorade, the blue kind. Don't ask me why, but whenever I was sick he'd always come up with a bottle of blue Gatorade and tell me to drink."

Jess is already reaching for her coat and pulling it on. "Then you're getting blue Gatorade!" she says, laughing. She grabs her car keys and starts to kiss him but Sam pulls away.

"I don't want you to get sick too."

She laughs and kisses him on the forehead anyway. "My immune system kicks your immune system's ass. Don't worry about it."

He laughs. "I love you." The words just come out, he doesn't even think about them.

She stops for a second before she says, "I love you too."

A week later, she's lying on the same sofa puking and Sam's offering her blue Gatorade. "I love you," she says, taking a swig, "but I hate your germs."

_The first time Sam thinks about going back to his family since he left for Stanford…_  
…he's twenty-two and in the passenger seat of the Impala. God, he missed this car. Of course, he didn't love it as much as his brother did – no one could love this car in a way like Dean Winchester did – but he always thought it was an awesome car.

They're driving back from finishing off that Constance chick, and Dean's mouth is flying, he can't stop talking and telling Sam about nearly every woman he's banged since Sam left or anything else for that matter. There's a look in his eyes that wasn't there when he first showed up at Stanford...a light that Sam always remembered being there when he was still around.

Sam laughs a little bit as Dean's long-winded recouting of something or other ends, and pulls his neck forward, cracking it a little. He sighs and stares out the window as the world whizzes past.

He remembers the countless hours he spent in this car with his brother, and laughs a little bit as he remembers. "What?" Dean asks.

He turns. "Do you remember when I was like…five, and I _hated _being in the car?"

Dean snorts. "Do I? You were such a pain in the ass I could never forget it."

"No, it's not that…do you remember that stupid game we'd play so that I'd shut up and not drive Dad crazy by asking, 'Are we almost there?' every few minutes?"

Dean thinks for a moment and then he starts laughing. "The one where the one person would think of something and give three clues and the other person would have to guess what he was thinking about?"

"Yeah, that one!"

"Dude, I love that game so much!"

"'Yeah, I was pretty good at it."

Sam smirks. "That's because I was five and gave way too obvious clues. Had I actually understood that the point was to _stump _the other person, I would have been so much better."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "Whatever you say, dude."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Asshole."

"Ass...face."

"Ass face? What kind of an insult is that?"

"A good one! It's even more insulting than asshole, in my opinion," Dean says, defensive. "Plus, I get creativity points there, right?"

And for a second, just a split second, Sam misses it. He doesn't miss the hunting or the driving, but he misses Dean and being around him. He forgot how nice it could be sometimes.

But then he remembers and no – he can't go back to this. He has too much to do.

_The first time Sam understands how his father felt that night…_  
…he's twenty-two and in the passenger seat of the Impala, telling Dean to drive as far from Stanford as he can. He's trying to forget it but he can't and every time he closes his eyes he sees her on the ceiling again and there's fire exploding around him.

His clothes still smell like smoke. He can't banish the smell of the smoke from his nostrils. His stomach is churning and bile is rising in his throat.

"Pull over!" he cries, and Dean does. He throws the door open and loses his lunch all over the side of the road. He hears the car door slam and he can feel his brother behind him as he crouches down for a second. His throat burns and his eyes sear.

"Hey," Dean says, "you okay?" Sam doesn't answer. "Come on, there was a motel a few miles back, I'll turn around and we'll call it a night."

Sam nods a little bit and gets back into the car, woozy.

_The first time Sam feels alone since he met Jess…_  
…he's twenty-two and it's three am and he can't sleep but Dean's asleep. He's miles away from Stanford, in…Nebraska? He has no idea. It's worse than trying to keep the days of the week straight.

He slips out of the motel room and sits, leaned up against the Impala. It's cold and he wishes for his jacket, but he doesn't want to go back into the room in case he wakes Dean up so he gazes at the stars, partially obscured by the smog.

And he misses her…he misses Jess. He feels so alone without her, and Sam Winchester hates feeling alone. He wonders if she's up in the stars, staring down at him. He wonders if she misses him this much too, wherever she is.

He hears a door open and close and sees Dean coming out, shrugging into his own jacket. He sits down next to his brother and offers him his jacket.

This is also the last time that Sam Winchester ever feels alone.


End file.
